The Double Shift

Time: 1:13 PM

Jack sat back in the break room chair, fingers lightly dusted with powdered creamer, watching Adam scribble notes like a college student cramming for finals.

The coffee cup was empty now — drained to the last drop.

Adam finally lowered the pen and looked at Jack with the proud grin of someone who'd just unlocked a new cheat code to life.

"You know," Adam said, tapping the pen against the paper, "we've got people with degrees in ten different fields, but no one — and I mean no one — makes coffee like that."

Jack chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck. "Guess I'm good for something after all."

Adam stood and stretched, folding the paper neatly and sliding it into his back pocket. His tone shifted — still friendly, but a little more official now.

"Alright, coffee wizard. Time to earn your first stripe."

He motioned for Jack to follow, and the two of them stepped back out into the hallway.

The hum of the office resumed as they returned to the main floor — screens blinking, workers murmuring into headsets, printers hissing with new pages. But now, it all felt a little less foreign to Jack. A little more… real.

They walked past the maze of desks until Adam stopped beside a sleek black cabinet built into the wall — completely unmarked except for a glowing panel that read:

AUTHORIZED ACCESS – STAFF LEADS ONLY

Adam pulled out a small magnetic card from his pocket and tapped the scanner. The panel turned green with a soft chime. The door clicked open.

Inside were rows of file folders — not digital, not labeled alphabetically. Each was marked by symbols. Moons, feathers, keys, clocks. Strange language. Shapes that almost made sense but never quite did.

Adam pulled out a folder marked with a simple, stylized spiral.

He handed it to Jack.

"Your first task."

Jack blinked and took the folder cautiously. It was lighter than expected.

"What's inside?"

"Report files. Internal. Paper-based entry into the archive. Don't worry, the system will guide you."

Jack opened it slowly — several hand-written pages, all in near-perfect penmanship, but the formatting was unfamiliar. He saw phrases like "client elevation pattern" and "post-phase form delay."

"What... exactly is this?"

Adam grinned. "Internal stuff. Nothing serious. Think of it like a warm-up before the heavy lifting."

He pointed across the floor. At the far wall, Jack noticed something he hadn't seen before — a lone desk with a monitor that blinked in a strange way, almost like it was breathing. The screen glowed a soft blue.

"That's your destination. Drop the report into the digital archive system. You'll get a ping when it's done. Then come find me."

Jack looked at the desk, then back at Adam.

"And if I mess it up?"

Adam clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Then you mess it up. That's how you learn."

Jack exhaled through his nose, nodded, and walked toward the glowing screen.

Time: 1:22 PM

Jack sat at the assigned desk, the strange spiral-marked folder resting beside the keyboard. The monitor displayed a calm blue background with a single blinking icon:

Begin Intake Process?

[YES] / [NO]

He clicked YES.

Immediately, the screen shifted — not into a form or spreadsheet, but into a flow of animated shapes, like it was feeling out the folder before even reading it. Jack followed the on-screen prompts:

Scan first page.

Confirm written seal.

Cross-reference client number.

Initiate softburn code.

It was like some kind of office sorcery.

Jack leaned forward, carefully matching the handwritten notes to the input fields. The symbols became clearer the longer he worked — like his brain was starting to get the pattern, even if he couldn't explain how.

A soft beep echoed from the monitor.

Upload Complete.

Task Archived.

Await further assignment.

Jack leaned back in his chair, blinking.

"...That's it?"

Just then, a soft ding came from the desk.

He turned and saw a small drawer had slid open by itself.

Inside was a single card. Sleek. Black. Embossed with a gold spiral.

He picked it up.

On the back was a message in neat block text:

WELCOME TO SHIFT ONE.

See Adam Morgan.